Crossing the Line
by Dino-SOAR
Summary: Mark reflects his thoughts on April. Rated T for slight graphics towards the end. Slight Roger/April. Oneshot.


**A/N – Just a quick thing I came up with at the spur of the moment.**

Mark POV

She threw rice. That's what she did.

She would throw it when excited.

She would throw it when sad.

She would throw it when angry.

She would throw it when scared.

And she would throw it when confused.

That's what she did. She threw rice.

And you could tell just by the way she threw it, what she was feeling.

When excited, she would take a handful from her 'rice bag' (which by the way was just a shoulder bag filled with uncooked rice which would never leave her side) and throw it up into the air while smiling and watch it fall all over her hair, her shoulder and the loft.

When sad, she would take just a few grains, and toss it solemnly over her shoulder, almost as if she were honoring something important. Not too heavy. Just a few grains to show she understood pain. I remember her saying – _"I'm just giving the dead what they deserve Mark. A little respect every once in a while"_

When she was angry, she reminded me of a toddler. She would fight with Roger a lot, and take some rice out and throw it on the ground. It was her way of stomping her feet. Sometimes she would even throw it AT Roger. It would piss him off at the moment, but when we look back on it, we can't help but laugh. It was so… _her._

When she was afraid, she had this nasty little habit of taking one single grain and shoving it inside one of her fingernails, dig it out, throw it on the ground, and start with another single grain. She did this during thunderstorms. She always tried to be brave during them, but we all knew she was absolutely terrified. I remember Roger was out getting them some drugs, and there was a thunderstorm. I figured she would just shoot up with what she had left and go to sleep, but she came in with her little bag of rice, sat on my bed and did her habit of shoving it under her fingernail until I asked her what was wrong.

And she looked at me with the gentlest eyes I have ever seen, as though on a deer and asked me: "Can I sleep with you?" Her voice just cracking at the end.

Of course, I had let her. She was terrified. Now that I think of it, I miss those times. Where she wouldn't be a drug addict. She would just be… April.

When she was confused though, she would simply take maybe ten grains of rice and throw them on the floor in front of her with a small hand motion as if to say _"I have no fucking idea what's going on"_. She did that a lot. She could be an airhead sometimes, but that's what made her so lovable.

Everyone thinks that I didn't like April because of what she did to Roger.

They're correct. I didn't like what he became. I hated losing my best friend.

But she didn't make him like that. _He made him like that._ He could have said no. He could have not tried shooting up in the first place. He knew what it did to people. So for that, I blame Roger for what happened to Roger. Not April.

I was the one who found her. She had been in the bathroom for over an hour. Roger came home and asked where she was. I completely forgot about her in there. When he went to have a smoke on the balcony, I went to check on her.

I knocked on the door. No answer.

I knocked again and called out her name. No answer.

When I opened the door, there she was. In bloody water, spilling over the tub.

I don't remember what I did or said or yelled. But I do know that whatever I did, it was enough to bring Roger running. And all I remember from there is him screaming bloody murder. He was screaming as though someone had took a knife to his eye and pulled it out slowly, making the pain so horrible you would rather be in Hell for the rest of eternity than bear this horrifying pain. He sobbed, taking her body in his arms, sobbing and screaming into her hair, trying desperately to put pressure on her wounds in which she self-inflicted on herself, even though we both knew she was already gone.

I don't remember what happened after that. I could only think one thing.

I didn't blame Roger for her dying.

I didn't blame him for not getting her off the drugs.

He told me he didn't blame me for not checking on her after thirty minutes in the bathroom.

But I knew, that deep down he regrets he left me alone with her.

And I knew that Roger would never be the same.

Because I think he honestly thought that his best friend was the cause of his girlfriends death.

And I don't know how long I could live with that.

**A/N – I didn't really like the ending… But I liked the story overall. Reviews?**


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